Soraya

Soraya’s new toy came in a lovely package. There really are no other words to describe it, nor are any necessary. I wanted to write something that I had never written before, new adventures as it were, but only those two sentences came to me before I was rudely interrupted by a brusque knocking at the door. It was the debt collectors. They had come for the previous resident but one of them recognized me from the club. They saw the open bottle of whiskey on the table and it turned into a bit of a session.

Half way through and quite pissed, I told them of my plan to write pornography but from a female perspective as a kind of challenge and see if I could get away with it. One of them wanted to back the project and the other said it was disgusting and left disgruntled. I doubt I will ever be able to look him in the face again. Still, that is the price you pay as a writer. There is always a certain risk involved or you are not doing your job properly.

The next morning I woke up on the beach, alone, and wearing my four hundred dollar Hong Kong suit, covered in sand, the occasional small crab exploring my hair. I remembered the plan and thought about Soraya, how much trouble she would get in to, and how little chance of surviving it she would have. Went back to the motel and wrote this instead.

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Keep it coming – I want to know the rest – so was it a gun in the package and did you get crabs from your big night – bwahahahaha – sorry, let’s be serious. Don’t you hate it when the debt collectors recognise you!

lolol … ohhh wonderful, Paul .. thank you for the teasing light of laughter! the tease is (almost? maybe?) everything … ok, it’s part of the journey and whatever whatever … no, it IS the journey … wild apparently (but not so) random elements orgying on our somewhat disturbing minutiae … geez, what a mouthful that was to type lol

So after this I am almost picturing Soraya as something like a bird (not a heron). She is very absent and yet the whole thing began by being about her — altogether an intriguing conundrum that offers, in terms of questions, musings about what is there and what is not.

hmm waking up in the sand again and crabs to boot… such an adventure is one will have with a bottle of whiskey and anyone who would listen as prisoner…when we’re hazy with happiness such ideas come… again paul it is the language of curlie cuuuezz that dip and sway to a beauty of a story…

footsteps leading away...

“The struggle of literature is in fact a struggle to escape from the confines of language; it stretches out from the utmost limits of what can be said; what stirs literature is the call and attraction of what is not in the dictionary.”
Italo Calvino.

Thanks for visiting. Have a fantabulous day full of tiny miracles like unexpected flowers blooming,